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William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare (bapt. 26 April 1564; d. 23 April 1616) was an English poet, playwright, and actor; he is widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. Sonnets # "From fairest creatures" # "When forty winters" # "Look in thy glass" # "Unthrifty loveliness" # "Those hours" # "Then let not winter's ragged hand deface" # "Lo! in the orient" # "Music to hear" # "Is it for fear" # "For shame deny" # "As fast as thou shalt wane" # "When I do count the clock" # "O! that you were your self" # "Not from the stars" # "When I consider every thing that grows" # "But wherefore do not you" # "Who will believe my verse" # "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" # "Devouring Time" # "A woman's face" # "So is it not with me" # "My glass shall not persuade me" # "As an unperfect actor" # "Mine eye hath play'd the painter" # Let those who are in favour with their stars # Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage # Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed # How can I then return in happy plight # When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes # When to the sessions of sweet silent thought # Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts # If thou survive my well-contented day # Full many a glorious morning have I seen # Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day # No more be grieved at that which thou hast done # Let me confess that we two must be twain # As a decrepit father takes delight # How can my muse want subject to invent # O! how thy worth with manners may I sing # Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all # Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits # That thou hast her it is not all my grief # When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see # If the dull substance of my flesh were thought # The other two, slight air, and purging fire # Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war # Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took # How careful was I when I took my way # Against that time, if ever that time come # How heavy do I journey on the way # Thus can my love excuse the slow offence # So am I as the rich, whose blessed key # What is your substance, whereof are you made # O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem # Not marble, nor the gilded monuments # Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said # Being your slave what should I do but tend # That god forbid, that made me first your slave # If there be nothing new, but that which is # Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore # Is it thy will, thy image should keep open # Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye # Against my love shall be as I am now # When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd # Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea # Tired with all these, for restful death I cry # Ah! wherefore with infection should he live # Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn # Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view # That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect # No longer mourn for me when I am dead # O! lest the world should task you to recite # That time of year thou mayst in me behold # But be contented when that fell arrest # So are you to my thoughts as food to life # Why is my verse so barren of new pride # Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear # So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse # Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid # O! how I faint when I of you do write # Or I shall live your epitaph to make # I grant thou wert not married to my Muse # I never saw that you did painting need # Who is it that says most, which can say more # My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still # Was it the proud full sail of his great verse # Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing # When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light # Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault # Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now # Some glory in their birth, some in their skill # But do thy worst to steal thyself away # So shall I live, supposing thou art true # They that have power to hurt, and will do none # How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame # Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness # How like a winter hath my absence been # From you have I been absent in the spring # The forward violet thus did I chide # Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long # O truant Muse what shall be thy amends # My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming # Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth # To me, fair friend, you never can be old # Let not my love be called idolatry # When in the chronicle of wasted time # Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul # What's in the brain, that ink may character # O! never say that I was false of heart # Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there # O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide # Your love and pity doth the impression fill # Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind # Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you # Those lines that I before have writ do lie # Let me not to the marriage of true minds # Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all # Like as, to make our appetite more keen # What potions have I drunk of Siren tears # That you were once unkind befriends me now # 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed # Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain # No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change # If my dear love were but the child of state # Were't aught to me I bore the canopy # O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power # In the old age black was not counted fair # How oft when thou, my music, music play'st # The expense of spirit in a waste of shame # My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun # Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art # Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me # Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan # So now I have confessed that he is thine # Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will # If thy soul check thee that I come so near # Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes # When my love swears that she is made of truth # O! call not me to justify the wrong # Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press # In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes # Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate # Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch # Two loves I have of comfort and despair # Those lips that Love's own hand did make # Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth # My love is as a fever longing still # O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head # Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not # O! from what power hast thou this powerful might # Love is too young to know what conscience is # In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn # Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep # The little Love-god lying once asleep "Hidden" sonnets * "Two households" * "If I profane" & "Thus from my lips" * "Now old desire" Shakespeare, William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare, William